


scientific method

by 100demons



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Crack, F/M, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce tries to test out his hypothesis: <i>I love Darcy Lewis</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. question and hypothesis

It hits him while he’s chewing on a forkful of Caesar salad, in the middle of writing his next monthly report to SHIELD. He looks up and Darcy’s sitting right across from him, the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration; she’s working on another grad school paper that she’s assured him, if weaponized, would probably kill the entire planet by blowing up brains with boredom. She’s idly tapping on the table with a finger, her nails bitten to the quick.

Bruce carefully puts his fork down on the table and swallows. This whole idea is—ridiculous. Stupid. Him projecting his lone—

Darcy groans and plants her forehead on the table. “I am going to _kill_ my professor. First, I’m going to lure her into a dark, dank alley and then shank her with a knife made from sporks. Then I’m going to drag her to the Hudson, dump her body in the middle of the night and cackle over the remains of her body while the piranhas eat her _eyeballs._ ”

“Well,” Bruce says, considering Darcy’s plan. “I don’t think piranhas live in the Hudson. Too cold, I think. And if you were going to drag her to a Hudson, you’d need a proper black body bag to stash her in and an inconspicuous looking van to carry you to the river. Oh and cement blocks to tie to her body so it won’t float.”

“Well, then, how about we set a date for next Thursday,” Darcy smiles at him, propping her chin on her hand. “You can be the designated driver.”

Bruce tries to ignore the way his heart rate is accelerating. “Be an accessory to murder? I don’t know…”

“I can pay you in brownies,” Darcy wheedles, leaning forward. “Dark chocolate brownies with M&Ms and peanut butter.”

“You have officially lured me over to the dark side,” he says solemnly and threads his fingers together, elbows on the table. “You may now call me Darth Banner.”

“May the Force be with us,” she intones gravely before collapsing into laughter. “Oh man, this is why I love you. You’re pretty much the only person in the world who would help me commit murder and take over the world.”

“I’m being coerced,” Bruce jokes, but his cheeks flush a dull red and he looks down at the report he was supposed to be writing. Instead of dealing with his experiments involving the use of gamma radiation in medical science, the report currently reads:

_question_

_Do I love Darcy Lewis?_

\---

“You know how it is,” Bruce says, awkwardly trying to hold chopsticks in his bandaged hands. “Giant robot invented by scientist, giant robot squishes said scientist, giant robot goes on to destroy the nearest city.”

“You forgot to mention the part where the giant robot stomped on you with its two-ton foot about fifty or so times,” Darcy says, pointing at his bruises and sprained wrist with her own chopsticks. “I thought when you, you know, went all green, you got super strong and then turned back normal.”

“Well, in a manner of speaking, yes, I suppose so.” He tries to lift a strand of floppy noodle with his wobbling chopsticks, only to have it fall back onto his plate, uneaten. “But when you get stomped on by a giant robot and thrown into the pavement, it tends to leave marks.”

Darcy frowns at him, eyes darkening. “You don’t have to do this.”

He looks up at her, his brow furrowed. “What? Eat with chopsticks?”

“No—“ Darcy makes a vague motion with her hand at him. “Go out and do the superhero stuff. You don’t have to save the world, every single day and risk your life beating up evil giant robot monsters or whatever it is.”

Bruce puts down his chopsticks and makes for the glass of water instead. “I did do that,” he says softly after a long pause. “I ran away for a year and wandered in the slums of India, trying to hide from…from myself, I guess.” He shrugs. “I am what I am and I can’t help that any more than I can help the sky being blue or the grass being green. When I lose control, I turn into a giant green monster. It sucks, yeah, but I can’t exactly do anything about it.” He smiles down at his plate, the curve of his mouth bitter. “Not that I haven’t tried. But I am the Hulk and if I can at least do _something_ with what I have, instead of cowering in fear of who I am...”

He looks up at her and his cheeks redden a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with my little spiel. I’ve just been thinking about this a lot and…Darcy?”

She’s scooping up sesame noodles from his plate with her chopsticks. “Open up,” Darcy says, holding up a mouthful. “It’s kind of pathetic watching you trying to feed yourself so…eat.”

“But—“

“You’ve got two options. Option One is you try to feed yourself, fail, end up not eating lunch, you go back to your lab and you spend the rest of the afternoon possibly ingesting dangerous chemicals and dying. Option Two is _I_ feed you, you get to eat lunch and everyone lives happily ever after.” She looks at him, her eyes almost defiant and he has no choice but to submit.

Later, when he goes back to his lab, he pulls out the old SHIELD report he wrote on earlier and adds:

_hypothesis_

_I love Darcy Lewis._


	2. experiments

love |ləv|

noun

 **1** an intense feeling of deep affection _: babies fill parents with intense feelings of love | their **love for** their country._

• a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone _: it was love at first sight | they were both **in love with** her | we were slowly **falling in love**._

• ( **Love** ) a personified figure of love, often represented as Cupid.

• a great interest and pleasure in something _: his **love for** football | we share a **love of** music._

ORIGIN Old English _lufu_ , of Germanic origin; from an Indo-European root shared by Sanskrit **_lubhyati ‘desires,’_** Latin **_libet ‘it is pleasing,’ libido ‘desire,’_** also by **leave** 2 and **lief**.

For the purposes of this experiment, love will be defined as a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone (specifically, DL) and an intense feeling of deep affection.

\---

Experiment No. 1

Prove that I do not love (have a deep romantic/sexual attachment to) Darcy Lewis (DL).

\---

“Are you okay?” Darcy chews on the tip of her pen, ink already staining her bottom lip. “No offense, but you look kind of constipated.”

“Uh,” Bruce says faintly. “I’m just feeling a little under the weather today. You know. I heard there’s something going around the helicarrier.”

“Oh, yuck.” Darcy wrinkles her nose and gingerly leans over the table and pats his shoulder. “I’ll ask my mom if she make her chicken matzoh ball soup for you. That thing is like _legendary._ It pretty much cures everything from cancer to colds.”

Bruce casually sweeps his eyes over Darcy’s chest again and wonders if his face was getting paler as all the blood was rushing down… “I—have to go—just remembered—nuclear—radiation—lethal stuff, might skill someone. Have to go—go fix it!” He pushes his chair away from the table and carefully stands up, positioning his briefcase so it covered his front. “Tomorrow?”

“Feel better!” Darcy calls out to him as he speeds out of the mess hall and into the hallway. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

\---

Experiment No. 1

Results:

  * Elevated heart rate
  * Increased vasodilation in the facial area
  * Loss of mental acuity (i.e. inability to hold a conversation or focus on meal)
  * Decreased impulse control
  * Vasodilation in erectile tissue 



\---

Experiment No. 2

Prove that I do not love (have an intense feeling of deep affection for) DL.

\---

“I am so judging you right now.”

“What?”

Darcy gives Bruce the Look and crosses her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe you’re wearing two different shades of black. In the same outfit!” She shudders and dramatically covers her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can’t—I can’t bear to look at you anymore. My eyes, they burn!”

Bruce looks down at his black button down shirt and his black pants. “But…they’re both black,” he says, with the air of a man who has suddenly landed on a planet with two headed green aliens.

“Different _shades_ of black,” Darcy corrects him. “Your shirt’s charcoal black but your pants are _black_ black. It’s just not cool.”

Bruce quirks an eyebrow. “Cool,” he repeats dryly.

“Look, I understand it, I really do,” she insists, picking up her pickle and waving it in the air like a pointer. “We work on a giant flying boat filled with dorks that wear black jumpsuits all day. It’s pretty depressing just looking at all this black. Soon enough it starts getting to you and _you_ start to dress like all of them and it’s like a disease. An awful, horrible, horrendously _painful_ disease.” Darcy crunched on her pickle for emphasis.

“You know,” he comments, trying to suppress a smile and failing. “The scariest part is that everything you say is now starting to make sense.”

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” Darcy sniffs regally, but her eyes are smiling. When she reaches for his bag of chips a few minutes later, he knows he’s forgiven.

\---

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce pries his face off of the table and rubs the mark on his skin that the embossed table left as a parting gift. “Goo’ morn’n,” he mumbles, his eyes threatening to stage a protest as he tries to open them.

“Well, you look like someone ate you, shit you out, then shoveled you into a fire.” Something warm and soft settles in right next to him and smells like flowers right after a long rainstorm.

“Dr. Doom,” he yawns and it’s explanation enough. “Jus’ got back…before?” His left eye finally decides to open and a few blurry moments later, he can tell that someone’s face is right in his.

“GAH— oh, it’s you,” Bruce says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “I thought for a moment—sorry, I was just—long, long, _long_ mission.”

“Oh, it’s you?” Darcy repeats, looking amused. “I don’t know whether to be offended or charmed.”

“ _Trust me_ ,” Bruce moans into his hands as he tries to rub feeling back into his face. “It was definitely a compliment. If I never, ever see a robot again it will be too soon. Is it too much just to have oh, I don’t know, a normal person try to end the world?”

“That would be too easy,” Darcy says lightly, but she presses a gentle hand against his neck. “Jesus, you’re like made of _knots_. What are you doing to yourself?”

“Turning into a giant angry green man with lots of issues.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Now turn around.”

“What?” Bruce stares at her which she readily and easily returns.

“Come on, don’t be such a baby. Turn towards the wall, so your back is facing me. I won’t hurt you.” Darcy glares daggers at him and puts a hand on her hip. Bruce’s resolve weakens and finally collapses in face of her assault. He shifts around in his chair, faces the wall and prays that she won’t draw giant LOL Cats on his shirt.

Darcy straddles her chair, leans forward close enough that her chest is nearly touching his back and starts giving him a back massage.

“Oh,” Bruce says and starts to melt in her hands. “Please forget everything and anything awful I’ve ever said about you. You are a goddess among mortals, a—a proton among electrons, oh my god, please don’t ever stop.”

Her warm magic hands press against the knots in him back and slowly work them out, rubbing steadily up and down his back and across his shoulders. Bruce leans so far back into it that he’s almost horizontal and if he angles his head back and opens his eyes, he can see Darcy’s blue eyes and the curve of her tongue against her mouth and the tiny mole on the left side of her neck…

Bruce snaps back up, nearly breaking his neck in the process, and stumbles inelegantly off of his chair. “I—have to—thank you for that, that was great, really, it was amazing, but it’s getting late, honestly, look at the time!” he babbles, brushing invisible specks of dust off of his shirt. “I have reports to write and debriefings to go too and I have to check up on the program I left running in the lab—“

Darcy slides off her chair, kicks off her heels and stomps over to where he’s standing. “You!” she yells, stabbing her finger in his chest. “I just can’t understand you! Honestly, if a woman gives you a fucking back massage and eats lunch with you every fucking day and flirts with you and gives you advice—it means you should probably kiss the fuck out of her!”

Bruce blinks. “I—what—you mean—“

Darcy reaches up, pulls down on his shirt collar and kisses him.

\---

Experiment No. 2

Results

  * …
  * …
  * Engaged in acts of physical affection with DL
  * Engaged in rituals of human courtship behavior (see: flirting, back massages)
  * Previous results observed in Experiment No. 1 also apply



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. Except. VASODILATION.


	3. conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

Bruce pulls back first, chest heaving for air. “I—I—“

Darcy puts a finger on his mouth and gently shushes him. “You’re twelve years older than me, you turn into a giant green rage monster to save the day, you’re awful at eating with chopsticks, you don’t like nuts in your cookies, you hate it when Tony Stark keeps fiddling with your computer and you have a giant guilt complex about everything.”

He stares down at her eyes, the elegant curve of her neck, her stubborn chin. “I don’t—I don’t deserve—“ He looks away and draws back. “I could kill you,” he says, his voice flat. “I could—“

“What are we, some kind of Twilight parody?” Darcy snorts and reaches up, cupping Bruce’s jaw with her hand. “I—I really like you. Possibly might even love you. I don’t know why, but it probably has a lot to do with you being an awfully nice jerk who saves the world with physics and anger. Don’t make up excuses just because you’re afraid of whatever we can be. Whatever we are right now.”

Bruce smiles and kisses her palm. “I think the wrong person goes out and saves the world every day.”

“I get better benefits as a lab assistant,” Darcy says and pulls him down for another kiss.

 ---

“So then Thor goes—“Verily, Jane, a golden dog is a mighty a pet for one so valiant as I’ or something medieval and Asgardian like that, so now they’re adopting a golden retriever from a shelter or something.” Darcy snorts and stabs at her salad with a fork, idly filing out a lab report with her other hand.

“I wonder what they’ll name it,” Bruce says, looking up from his cheesecake. “Thor-dog? Lightning Lad? Mini Avenger?”

Darcy looks at Bruce and rolls her eyes affectionately. “You’re such a dork, honestly. Lightning Lad?”

“I think it’s a good name for a dog that’s gonna be living with Thor, the God of Thunder,” Bruce says, mock-offended. “What, you don’t like it?” Darcy nudged Bruce’s foot with her own and grinned.

“I think we should get a pet too.”

Bruce tries not to choke on his cake. “Wait—what— _a pet_ —“

“Too fast?” Darcy asks sympathetically, leaning over and thumping Bruce on the back.

“We just moved in together,” Bruce wheezes. “Now you want to get a pet?”

“It could be our practice child,” Darcy muses, abandoning her lunch to contemplate dreams of domesticity. “You clean up after it, I buy it lots of cute things to wear, we go out on walks and pretend to be a normal couple.”

Bruce blanched. “Practice—child—“

“No, you’re right, it’s our _first_ child,” Darcy says decisively. “We have to be fair to the pet.”

“Does this mean we’re filing for a marriage license?” Bruce asks, half-joking. “Get a kid, get married…”

“Is that a proposal, Dr. Banner?” Darcy arches a brow. “Because if it is, it’s the worst proposal ever and I don’t accept.”

“You’ll know if I were proposing,” Bruce smiles and finished the remains of his cake. “Anyway, I have to go back to the lab and look—“

“You can’t just leave me hanging like that,” Darcy squawks indignantly, standing up from her seat at the same time as Bruce. “You don’t just _say_ things like that and then—“

Bruce leans over and presses his lips against hers. Darcy smiles and leans into the kiss, looking faintly wistful as he pulls back. “Are you _sure_ you have to go back right now? Cuz there are some supply closets right down the hallway—“

“I really do have to go,” Bruce says, looking slightly regretful. “Science calls.”

“I feel like I’m a three-person relationship here,” Darcy sighs and kisses his cheek. “Go and save the day with science, ok? We’ll talk about our kid later.”

“Oh god,” Bruce groans. “Not about the dog again.”

“Go!” Darcy threatens but her bright eyes soften her tone. “Before I drag you off into a supply closet and ravish your innocent body.”

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he promises. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

_conclusion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this! It was a lot of fun to write and I couldn't have done it without all of your lovely words and encouragement. You guys are awesome.
> 
> also to ashchehe, who started this whole mess by writing the best bruce/darcy fic in the world, and who puts up with my incoherent emails and awful penis jokes. you're the best. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by BECAUSE OF REASONS and the wonderful picspams of tumblr. And by readers like you. Thank you.
> 
> (No, seriously though, TUMBLR GIFSETS MADE THIS HAPPEN. God dammit internet!)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] scientific method](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498603) by [100demons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
